


Ruĝa Spirito (Hiatus)

by SpectralTigerParadox



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Danny Phantom
Genre: Angst, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Panic Attacks, Tim Drake is Red Robin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectralTigerParadox/pseuds/SpectralTigerParadox
Summary: After investigating an anonymous tip Red Hood realizes he has bit off more than he can chew. Now he and some kid are on the run from a crazy government organization. In order to escape they go to the one place he never wanted to step foot in again. The place protected by the man he loathes, Gotham. Will he be able to fight the urge to clean up the city he once called his? Or will he hang up his costume for good?(This story is currently being rewritten.)





	1. Chapter 1

Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, was not the kind of man who would follow an anonymous tip. But this tip in particular caught his attention. A dangerous government organization is experimenting on children, which was not something Red Hood could forgive. He vowed to put an end to it. Which is what lead him to the outskirts of what would have been Amity Park, Ohio. No one, not even Batman, could figure out what happened to the town. According to his sources, around this area was where he would find the infamous ‘Guys In White’. Although Red Hood really doubted that is what ‘GIW’ stood for.

 

All that remains of the town is ruble, decrepit buildings, and cracked mossy pavement/asphalt. A new town was never build there because people claimed the place is cursed. Kids would go missing, people would mysteriously die of unknown causes, and buildings would burn down. Now he had solved part of a mystery Batman failed too. The ‘GIW’ would kidnap children, blue-eyed and black haired children to be exact. It was funny that they had the same preference as Batman. The only question he needs to answer now is why their doing it. What is their goal?

 

Their place of operation was easy enough to find. The stark white building stood out among the green of the landscape. Now Red Hood kind of understood why people called them the ‘Guys In White’. These people, if they could even be referred to as people anymore, appeared to have an obsession with the color. Why they chose that one out of every color in the rainbow he would never know. 

 

Their facility was laughably easy to infiltrate. No cameras, the password for every keypad is ‘ghost’, and they barely had any guards patrolling. It was like the ‘GIW’ had no security measures at all. The guards were so easy to shoot down too. Most of them wore a white suit, and the ones that did has some semblance of armor were just plain pathetic. They acted as though they never had proper combat training. They relied too heavily on the worthless guns they insisted on shooting him with. For some reason they kept shouting ‘GHOST!’ whenever they saw him.

 

Red Hood found it hilarious since in a way it is true. He is like a vengeful spirit wandering the land, plotting against his killer and the man who refused to avenge him. Apart from being a vigilante he did not have much of a life. Not anymore. Enjoying tea and reading a good book was the pinnacle of fun during his free time.

 

As of the moment Red Hood found himself crawling through an air vent. It is tight, he just barely managed to fit. His destination: the one room more heavily guarded then the rest. Something big is going on in there and he was going to find out what it is. He uncomfortably made his way through the space until he spotted an air vent cover in the side of the wall. When he reached it he could see into the room. The air vent he is currently residing in seemed to be on the left side of the room. It wasn’t as stark white as the rest of the building. Red blood and a glowing green liquid coated the walls and floor.

  

White metal cabinets and tables lined the sides of the room. An examination table sat in the middle of the room. Then he saw _strike one_. There is a kid attached to the table, metal braces keeping him in place. No clothes covered the child, leaving a collection of terrifying scars and ugly untreated wounds visible. Not even he had that many scars. A muzzle is strapped tightly to his face. His hair is matted with dirt, blood, and the luminescent green substance, making it impossible to distinguish his hair color. His body is filthy too. Did they never give the kid a bath? Because it sure as hell looked like they didn’t.       

 

A few scientists filed into the room as Red Hood silently gazed from his hiding spot. They were all dressed in sheer white clothes. One picked up a knife that had been laid out on a table and approached the kid. There was no hesitation as he cuts into the kid’s chest. How could they do such a horrible thing to a fourteen year old? Then again he was brutally beaten and blown up at that age. And people called thirteen the unlucky number. 

 

 _Strike Two_. The kid didn’t even look like he was sedated and they were tearing right into his chest. The sharp knife penetrating the kid’s skin causing him to thrash against his restraints, screams of pain muffled by the muzzle on his face. The worst part was it looked like this was not the first time the kid has experienced this. The knife followed the line of a Y-shaped scar. Man, had these guys ever met the Joker because this was just plain cruel and deranged. The bastards might even be more heartless than his mortal enemy. His killer. Red Hood has seen some sick and twisted things in his life. _This_. This scene right in front of him took the cake. The very disgusting bloody cake.   

 

They did not seem to care how much the kid cried out in pain, how fat tears rolled down his cheeks, how he was losing enough blood to die of blood loss. A scientist wordlessly slapped the kids head to the side, promptly quieting the kid. _Strike three_. Their eyes met. The kid’s dull eyes are an icy blue like the frozen tundra. Red Hood saw the pleading look in the kid’s eyes, a look that screamed help me. _You’re out_. Without another thought Red Hood bust out of the air vent, slipping gracefully in the room. The monsters in disguise startled. A growl ripped out of his throat, eyes narrowing behind his helmet. He is going to _save_ this kid. Before they had a chance to comprehend what just happened Red Hood shot them all dead, like their pitiful guards. The knife one of the scientist held clattered on the floor.

 

The kid is staring at him, wide eyed, shaking like a leaf. “Hey, kid. It’s okay. I’m going to help you.” Red Hood said reassuringly, eliciting a look of disbelief from the kid. So the kid has trust issues, great. The wound on the kid’s chest gained his attention as blood seeped down the kid’s sides. He needs to sew the kid back up and fast. Red Hood flung open cabinets, scattered various equipment on the floor, and did not find any sort of medical supplies required to patch up the kid. How could they _not_ have any medical supplies? Considering how pathetic they are at combat surely they would be patching themselves up all the time. He pulled a small med kit out of his leather jacket, never left home without it. Hopefully it would be enough to save the kid until he could treat his injuries properly.

 

The kid is still staring at him, as if trying to determine whether or not Red Hood is a threat. “Don’t freak out. I’m going to patch you up.” Red Hood said, making sure the kid knew what he was up to. After opening his small med kit he pulled out a needle and thread. Something told him if he let the kid out before he patched him up the kid would bolt. So he left the kid trapped on the table. It wasn’t his best idea but the kid needed fixed up before anything else. The wound is ugly, red and green liquid pooled and flowed out of the unfinished Y shaped cut. Red Hood snatched a hypodermic needle attached to a syringe out of his med kit. It contained his strongest sedative. He only used it in dire situations. Stuff was strong enough to effect a meta human so if they fucked up the kid’s genetics in any way it would still affect him.

 

A small whimper escaped the kid’s mouth as Red Hood gentle held his arm, sticking the needle in and injecting the sedative into his veins. Not long after that the kid passed out. He quickly began sewing up the worst of the kid’s wounds. An occasional whimper or whine came from the kid but other than that he didn’t stir. When he finished he started fiddling with the locks keeping him from taking the kid and leaving this horrid place behind. A thought suddenly dawned on him. Where is he going to hide the brat? Talia is always willing to lend Jason a hand but he has already gotten Ra’s pissed off at her enough. Where would the ‘GIW’ be too scared to step foot? Sadly, he knew that answer. A place he hates. A place with his killer and the person he loathes. Gotham.

 

No government agency dared set foot in the territory of Batman. Is the kid worth going back to his old stomping ground? He glance up from the lock to look at the kid. Dirty black hair covered the kid’s face, his chest falling and raising at an even pace. Yes, the kid is totally worth it. “We haven’t even gone on a first date and you’ve already stolen my heart.” Red Hood joked. Finally, a distinct click came from the lock. “One down, three more to go.” He sighed. This kid is definitely going to make his life interesting.    


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Red Hood got all the restraints off the kid he got them both the fuck out of that little slice of hell. He didn’t care if any other kids got left behind. It was only a matter of time until the ‘GIW’ realized one of their facilities was breached. Talia could handle getting rid of the ‘GIW’. She would probably love the good publicity it would give her. Of course he would have her leave the organization’s boss to him. If it wasn’t on his bucket list before, punching the sadistic bastard in charge of this right in the face is now.

 

As of now, he and the kid are riding in an old truck he high jacked. His motorcycle migrated to a very deep crack in the ground, and was crushed to smithereens by a collapsing building the moment he laid eyes on it. A cruel cosmic joke he did not appreciate. The truck is shitty, the upholstery on the seats is long gone, red paint faded and rusted over. It isn’t the nicest truck in the world but it would get them to their destination. It was a stroke of luck he even got the damn thing to start.  

 

The kid looks slightly better than when they first meet. All of his injuries are bandaged and the kid is dead asleep. Honestly, if he didn’t know any better he would think the kid was dead. The rise and fall of the kid’s chest is so slow he could be in a coma. And Jason sure as hell hoped the kid wasn’t in a coma. The prominent bags under the boy’s eyes screamed sleep deprivation. His pasty white skin and stick like appearance showed how much effort Red Hood would need to put into nursing the kid back to health. Hell, he could count every one of the kid’s ribs. And he really needs to give the kid a bath. With soap, a lot of soap. Maybe some industrial cleaner too. Red Hood never thought it was possible for someone to smell like death, even Morta would be offended by the kid’s stench.

 

If only Alfred could give him some tips on nursing someone back to health, but he did not want to scare the old man to death. After all no one knew he is alive and he planned to keep it that way. It wasn’t like he would be welcomed back to the manor any ways. Batman already replaced him with that fucking pipsqueak, Timothy Drake. Maybe he was foolish for hoping to actually have a real father, because Bruce is far from being a father to him. Jason was just a little soldier in Batman’s fucked up war against crime. And then there is Dick. Jason doubted Dick would welcome him back with open arms. They never really had a good relationship, the man held a grudge against Jason for replacing him. The only person that would be happy to see him is Alfred. The man is far too good for Bruce. Alfred deserves to be more than a grown ass man’s babysitter.   

 

Every time he saw the kid shiver in the rear view mirror he wished he had more than a leather jacket to cover the kid with. The trip to his nearest safe house was quiet and unnerving. Red Hood checked, and double checked, to make sure the kid had no tracking devices on him. Although there were none to be found he still couldn’t get rid of this nagging paranoia. After driving down a long curvy dirt road he spotted his safe house. It is a one story log cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by oak trees near a small lake. Talia arranged it for him, along with all his other safe house. Sometimes, she would drop by with her demon spawn. Red Hood didn’t have anything against Damian, but he chose some of the worst times to hang out with Jason. At least the baby assassin loves him. Though he would probably never get the kid to admit it.  

 

Yeah, Jason knew Bruce is Damian’s _father_. But he could not bring himself to blame the little monster for his _father’s_ mistakes. He would sooner watch hell freeze over than allow that poor excuse of a father anywhere near his baby brother. Bruce would put the kid in even more danger than Talia. Unlike Bruce, she truly cared about her children’s safety. Batman would let Damian face monsters like the Joker on his own. Jason sure as hell isn’t going to let the murderous baby bat fight the special kind of crazies Gotham is known for.  

 

The truck came to a stop a few feet away from the building. Red Hood hopped out after pulling the key out of the ignition, opened the left back side door and carefully gathered the sleeping teen into his arms. He really hoped no one ever saw him carrying a mostly naked teen into his safe house. Roy is probably the last person he would want to witness this moment. The archer would never let him live it down. Damn, he had to get the kid clothes didn’t he? The teen is small and malnourished so he could squeeze into Damian’s clothes. Maybe Damian left some laying around. The kid always left his stuff in Jason’s safe houses. Mainly childish things he didn’t want Ra’s to know he had, like the cuddly stuffed tiger that resided in this particular safe house.

 

Red Hood walked up to the wooden front door only to realize he had a problem. How the hell is he going to open the door with a severely injured teen in his arms? He really should have opened the door first and then grabbed the kid. Well, there is no door that can’t be opened with a swift kick. It’s not like this is the first time he has kicked down a safe house door anyways. And he can always fix it later. He slammed his boot into the door, the wood splintered and creaked from the force of his kick, and the door flew open.

 

The inside of the cabin has a homey feel to it, Talia helped with that. She insisted his safe houses should be a home away from home. At a time like this Jason is grateful for that. If she hadn’t been so stubborn about it he would not have the tools required to help the kid. The living room is medium sized at best. A dingy old orange sofa sat against a wall with an old wooden coffee table in front of it. A few wooden book cases stuffed full of books are pushed up against a random wall. An old TV is perched atop an even older looking TV stand. Jason picked everything up at a thrift store. He would be lying if he said he did not buy old furniture to annoy Damian. The kid loathed his couch with a burning passion, mainly because of its offensive orange color. If asked he would never admit the sofa is comfiest thing he has ever sat on. They just don’t make couches like they use to.  

 

As Jason walked in, he nudged the light switch for the overhead light on with his shoulder. Stumbling around in the dark with an injured was a good way for them both to end up hurt. Well, for him to get hurt and the kid to get even more wounded than he already is. He carefully walked over to the orange monstrosity he calls couch and carefully laid the injured kid on it. If the kid is staying, he sure as he is going to get a bath. And considering the kid is still out like a light Jason would need to bathe him. First he needed to find clothes for the kid. Damian is bound to have left some fluffy baggy clothes somewhere. “Well, let’s see if I can find the brat's clothes.” Jason sighed.

 

Just as he began to make his way towards the bedrooms a shadow by the broken front door caught his attention. “Jason, I have arrived in search of refuge, and you door is broken. You should fix that before the local wildlife invades your safe house. ” Damian stated, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, in his League of Assassin garb. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morta is the Roman goddess of death.


	3. Chapter 3

_Just as he began to make his way towards the bedrooms a shadow by the broken front door caught his attention. “Jason, I have arrived in search of refuge, and you door is broken. You should fix that before the local wildlife invades your safe house. ” Damian stated, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, in his League of Assassin garb. Speak of the devil and he shall appear._

 

Damian’s usual scowl sat on his face. “Like you?” Jason deadpanned, Damian glared at him like he killed Goliath. Why couldn’t the kid learn to lighten up? Jason will make him laugh one day, and it will be the most monumental moment in history. He reached up and pulled his red helmet off, revealing his black domino mask. He has been wearing it for so long he almost forgot he had it on. A smirk tugged at his lips, a smirk he knew Damian hated. “I am not wildlife, Jason. I am a trained assassin and far superior to all the insects you are allowing in the house. What on earth possessed you to ruin a perfectly good door?” Damian hissed, clearly not appreciating Jason’s sense of humor.

 

Then again, no one appreciated his sense of humor. Apparently he makes ‘too many’ jokes revolving around his death and Pit madness. “At the time opening it would have been a pain in the ass.” Jason replied, walking across the room before carelessly tossing the helmet on the coffee table. It landed with an audible thud. Good thing the kid is dead asleep or the noise might have woken him up. The teen probably need all the sleep he could get.

 

“Did you forget how to use the door handle? And here I thought you had more than enough brain cells intact to properly open a door. I suppose the Lazarus Pit can’t fix everything.” Damian sneered, uncrossing his arms and giving Jason a pointed stare.

 

Anyone who didn’t know any better would assume the brat was picking a fight with them, but Jason knew it was just a façade Damian used to disguise his worry. And he had every right to be worried, Jason is known to bust down any door, even metal doors, in his path if he is heavily injured. Sure, Damian has a pretty fucked up way of showing his emotions but at least he cares. The League of Assassins wasn’t big on teaching the next generation on how to properly express emotions. Actually, they weren’t a fan of emotions in general. Being related to Bruce could also be a contributing factor to Damian’s inability to process emotions properly.

 

Jason would help him if he was an emotional stable person - which his is not and might never be because of his god damn Pit madness – so the kid is on his own when it comes to learning about feeling and all that other bullshit. Emotions were more of Dick’s forte than Jason’s. While Jason has no intention of letting any of Batman’s little fucking bird themed soldiers near Damian, or the yet to be named kid, Dick was the one who would mostly help in that department. The only thing Jason is good at when emotions are involved is beating the shit out of whatever pissed him off. The Pit madness didn’t really help him control his emotions either. It was just best to beat the ever living hell out of something until his Pit rage died down. Though he refrained from doing that around Damian as much as possible. Jason could never live with himself if he accidentally hurt the little assassin during a bout of Pit rage. The guilt would eat him alive.

 

“Ever heard the saying ‘If it ain’t broken don’t fix it’?” Jason asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice. Damian shot him a brief offended look as if he truly believed Jason doubted his knowledge before his usual scowl returned. It was so hard to tease the kid when he always took everything so seriously. But Damian is starting to understand the concept, so Jason will call that a win.

 

“Of course I have. I am well versed in all forms of literature and language, even pointless sayings.” Damian huffed. The League of Assassins, they teach every form of language known to man but not the importance of emotional health. Because god forbid they have an emotionally stable assassin.

 

“Well, then don’t try to fix me. I doubt you could even find the right screwdriver to screw in all my loose screws. I’ll give you a hint. It’s not a Flathead or a Philips.” Jason joked, beckoning a seemingly disgruntled Damian into his safe house with a single wave of his hand. The boy sauntered in without any hesitation – Jason’s safe houses were his safe houses too – once his eyes landed on the injured form on the couch he froze.

 

“You replaced me.” Damian stated, staring at the unexpected guest in shock and betrayal. Well, fuck. Why did all the children related to Bruce in some fashion have abandonment issues? Hell, at this point they could form a club. The ‘my parents were neglectful jack asses and I just want to be loved’ club. Dick technically couldn’t be a part of that club – his real parents actually loved and cared for him – but if he considered Bruce a parent then he could totally join.

 

The man hardly qualified as a good parent since the only way he knew how to deal with emotions was to throw on a costume and pummel criminals. Bruce is such a ‘great’ role model. Jason honestly had no idea if Dick even liked Bruce. They were constantly fighting when Jason was alive. Day and night they would scream at each other about how Bruce gave away the title Robin or other pointless thing Jason didn’t care enough to remember.

 

“No, no, no!” Jason quickly rectified, a look of sheer panic spreading across his face. Damian looked damn near close to tears, or as close as he could get to looking like that. The kid was definitely not a book your average human could read. Luckily Jason is not your average person and has spent enough time with this book to know how to read every word. The stiffness of his posture, the slight glisten of tears in his eyes, and that damn near undetectable quiver of his lower lip was all Jason needed to see to know how devastated the kid really was. The demon might be an assassin but he is still a child.

  
“I picked him up from a government facility that is experimenting on children. He is in no way, shape, or form your replacement. Why would I ever find a monstrous little demon that could replace you? I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world. You will always come before my job as an antihero.” Jason explained, his voice carrying a certain gentleness to it that always calmed Damian. He barely kept himself from saying ‘I’m not Bruce/Batman’ but he knew Damian would read in-between the lines. The kid was great at picking up unsaid words.

 

“I guess you got one thing from Wayne. You like to collect strays.” Damian muttered, observing the injured male with a hardened gaze. Damian was essentially his first stray. Before Jason arrived he had no male role model to teach him right from wrong. When Jason finally got his thoughts in order he took on that role, which did effect their relationship. Sometimes Jason was the older brother Damian could rely on. Other times he is the father figure Damian can look up to or run to when he is scared. Jason could see how having a potential brother around might be intimidating to Damian. The demon brat has never needed to share Jason’s affection with anyone. And Damian definitely is not the sharing type.

 

“I love you, baby demon.” Jason said, pulling the emotional troubled boy into a hug. Surprisingly, the little demon let him. Normally the kid would put up some kind of fight against one of Jason’s rare hugs. But this time the kid just leaned into it, hesitantly wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist, and buried his face in Jason shirt. He must have really been scared. The hug would probably looked awkward to other people. Jason had grown a lot after he died and came back to life. He looked like a monster in comparison to Damian. The poor kid barely rose past his waist. “I value your existence as well.” Damian said, his words are slightly muffled.

 

After a couple minutes of hugging Jason decided to break the silence. “So why are you here?” Jason said, using the same gentle tone as before. The kid usually stopped by for a reason. Damian slipped out of his hug, taking a few steps back so he could have some personal space.

 

“I do not wish to be within my cousin’s presence.” Damian grumbled. Jason couldn’t blame the kid for wanting to be as far away from her as possible. She is a bitch.

 

“I see, I take it she is still a bitch. So is the demon bearer here or did you come here alone? Better yet, how did you know I would be here?” Jason questioned. It wasn’t uncommon for Damian to drop by alone but he did have some things he wants to discuss with Talia. Specifically things about the 'GIW'.

 

“Your nicknames for mother keep getting more and more unoriginal.” Damian said, before he frowned and sighed. “And no, I came here alone. Mother is busy with League of Assassins business. As for how I knew you would be at this safe house, I put a tracker in your leather jacket.” So Talia is busy, that certainly put a damper on his plans. He would find a way to destroy the ‘GIW’ with or without her.

  
“Of course.” Jason muttered in annoyance. Since when has he been running around with one of the brat’s trackers on him? Sneaky bastard must have hid it really well if Jason never found it – no wonder he has been really paranoid about trackers recently – to think its been on one of his favorite articles of clothing for god knows how long.


End file.
